Not Just Any Old Day
by Temptation's Prophetess
Summary: PREQUEl to Just An Ordinary Day not neccesary to read it first, though . Beka gets ambushed in her chambers by someone she's been avoiding, and the gillyflowers are back. What has our terrier stumbled into this time? BxR


**A/N: **Okay guys, so this is the prequel to Just an Ordinary Day, but it's not nessecary to read one to understand the other. I was really disapointed by how Bloodhound ended (in my opinion, there should have been one last chapter in which Rosto and Beka have, if not a complete confession of love/makeout seesion, then at least a 'moment'), so here is my attempt at the week after it ends. By the way, if you're reading Just an Ordinary Day, there may be some continuity errors, because it was written almost a year before Bloodhound came out. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this!

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**Not Just Any Old Day**

It's a week after her return from Port Caynn and already the gillyflowers are back. Only the gods know how he gets in here, locked tight as it always is when she's gone. They line her chamber – shocking red and pure white – creating a riot of color throughout her normally dull room. For a moment, she thinks maybe that's why he did it: he thought her rooms should match her personality, rich with love and laughter and mischief, yet often quite and understated. She feels a bit guilty: she's been avoiding him since her return.

"Then again," she says as her brain returns to reality, "We are talking about the King of Thieves here. Waxing poetic about Rosto will only achieve his goals. Let's face it – he just wants to bed you…nothing more."

Sighing heavily, she turns to close her door behind her. In her exhaustion – it's after her watch and she spent a pox-ridden_ three hours _chasing after some sarden mumper – she fails to notice the person behind the door.

In a flash he's got her pinned between himself and the door, his lean, muscled body pressing her back. _Rosto._ Of course. She looks down, ashamed at being caught so careless. What was she _thinking?_ Hadn't she learned anything from those loobies who beat her up last time?

He's not having any of that, though. One of his hands delves under her chin and slowly tips it up to face him. He's grinning; the sort of grin where even his eyes smile and his mouth lifts crookedly. Doubtless he wasn't expecting being able to capture her so easily.

"What do you want?" she asks dejectedly. She's really not in the mood for his mocking companionship right now. She's managed to avoid him all sarden week, but now the pox-ridden crackbrain has got her cornered, and he's smiling like a loobie a'cause he _knows _it.

"You've been avoiding me." He states. "And so I'm taking advantage of you now, because I may never get you pinned against a door again." These words send a thrill of anticipation up her spine. "Apparently, I need to correct your rather mistaken impressions of me, my delightful terrier," he says, smirking infuriatingly all the while. "It would seem that you believe the only thing I'm interested in you for is canoodling. And while that would undoubtedly be fantastic, and I cannot deny that I am more than interested and would be an enthusiastic participant should you choose to go there, I want _more_." This last is accompanied by tender fingers gently easing their way around her ears and curling into her hair, cradling her head.

She's more than moderately shocked at this point: Rosto? _Tender?_ Who would have thought? She simply gapes at him, her head tilted up and to the side, in the perfect place for him to kiss her. He doesn't, not yet, though he would delight in doing so. They have things to talk about first.

"Because you see, dearest terrier, you left, and I heard some wild things about what you did when you were gone. And you know what I discovered? I don't like the thought of you canoodling with someone else. Dale Rowan in particular. I have discovered I am wildly, violently, jealously _possessive_ of you Beka. I don't want to share."

"Hey, I never made you any–" she begins, but is stopped as he continues as though he hasn't heard her. There's no teasing left in his words now.

"I know you never promised me anything. And that's the problem." There's an urgent edge to his voice, a tangible tension sharp as a knife, as a spring coiled under extreme pressure. "Because I found that I want your promises. I want your commitment. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up beside you everyday for the rest of my life. I want to marry you and have little ones with you and never spend a day away from your side. I found that I don't _want_ anyone else." The spring snaps and his voice cracks, his desperation bleeding into his words. "I _can't _want anyone but you. I will wait forever for you, even if you choose not to have me."

She has nothing to say to his words, but it's more out of surprise than anything else. Looking down at her, he clearly takes her silence for rejection. And so Rosto the Piper takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and places a tender kiss on her forehead. His voice is little more than a ragged whisper as he says "I just needed to let you know."

He walks away.

For several minutes, Beka does nothing but lean against the door she'd been pinned to for the better part of what feels like a week. Staring blankly at her room, the gillyflowers make a few neural synapses fire and she gains some thought. Rosto is first and foremost in her head. His face swims in her mind, beckoning her with first a teasing smile, then a loving grin. Try as she might, she can't concentrate on anything else, can't even move from the door so long as she has the weight of his feelings on her shoulders. They pin her to the door as effectively as his real shoulders did, refusing to let her up until she comes to a decision.

For so long, she's held Rosto up as an example of who she could never be with: he's not just a Rat, but the King of Rats, an incorrigible flirt and practically a spintry to boot!

_But is he really? _Whispers that little voice inside her head, the one that knows people, the one that is always wondering what would happen if she ever said yes to him. _Are you sure you're not just scared? Rosto gave up his pretty gixies long ago, just after he started chasin' you. And have you ever seen him flirt seriously with anyone else? As to his bein' a Rat, Dale was as close as could come and he still jerked you about. Are you sure you're not just scared? _The voice whispers slyly. _Are you sure you weren't just using Dale as an excuse, a'cause you knew you couldn't keep him an' he didn't want you too? Because by the Goddess herself, you know Rosto wants to keep you. An' that terrifies you, doesn't it?_

"Enough!" she yells, earning herself a strange look from Achoo, perched on the bed. She will not be questioned by her own mind.

_But you need a questioning, _It replies._ You really don't know yourself very well._

"Pox and murrain," she whispers, because – Trickster strike her down if she lies – it's _right_.

Finally she moves, bolting out of her chambers and down the stairs, not even closing the door behind her. She's out of the street and into the Dancing Dove before she knows it, up into the rooms she knows are his. He's not there, and she pauses for a moment, catching her breath, before hurtling back downstairs, calling frantically for him all the while.

He's turning at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the knob outside. She doesn't have the time to stop, and so she hurtles into him, pinning him to the door. She's plastered against him in a way that's both highly pleasant and extremely disconcerting.

"Beka," he asks, once again taking her chin in his fingers and tilting it up to face him. "What's the matter?" He sounds worried, and that's all she registers before she reaches up and drags his face down to hers, meshing their lips together. When they pull away for air, both of them are breathing raggedly, and her hands have fisted themselves in his hair and his arms are curled protectively around her lower back, holding her tight to his body.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, but what just happened?" he asks, looking adorably confused.

"I just realized something," she simply replies.

"Well, remind me to stick around for your epiphanies," he jokes "I rather like this end result."

She brushes some of his fine hair out of his eyes and simply _looks_ at him for a moment, taking his strong, handsome face in. "You're a good man, Rosto the Piper, King of Thieves. And I'm sorry I couldn't see that before. I've made a complete mess of us because of it." He's beginning to look hopeful, His eyes taking on a lighter, almost youthful color. "What you said to me was completely out of line, and I may never be able to forgive you for scaring me so badly." At her words, the light vanishes. "But you made me see what I've been trying so hard to hide. You made me open my eyes and realize…" her voice trails off as she tries to find the right words. She can't.

"Oh, just come with me," she says impatiently, suddenly testy from her failure to say what she wants. She leads him out of the Dancing Dove and into her lodging house, up the stairs and into her room, where she shoos Achoo out before closing the door behind them. She doesn't lock it; they both need a quick escape route if this goes sour.

"Sit," she says pointing at her bed and avoiding his gaze. He gives her a slightly incredulous look, but obeys. "I haven't got the right words for this," she says, by way of explanation or apology for the emotional maelstrom she's about to toss at him. "You jumped into my life and immediately tried to bed me. I told you I wouldn't until you got rid of your other mots, and you did." She walks to the open window and puts her hands on the sill, studiously ignoring him. "You started giving me flowers, and protecting me, and it scared me to death. You chased after me when no one else so much as gave me a second glance, and I thought you simply had to bed every woman you met. I misjudged you, and I'm sorry. I promise not to punch you if you try to kiss me again, okay?"

She can't really say what she expects after this: she's almost hoping he'll leave her to her confusion, but there's a whole other part of her that hopes he'll take her into his arms and reassure her.

For several long moments, he does nothing. Then, he gets up from the bed and walks to her. His arms come around her and he slowly turns her to face him. This makes the third time they've been in this position today, but neither of them is pressed against a door this time. Once more his fingers come under her chin and he tilts her face to his. "Beka," he whispers, the tortured expression in his eyes making her heart break just a little.

"I love you. My only question is, do you love me?"

"Yes."

These words are the only ones they need to hear. They kiss and kiss and after that everything is just snapshots and feelings, a melting chaos of ecstasy: Rosto, his hand reaching out to her, whispered words that make no sense, a tangle of limbs and sheets, quiet caresses, brief thoughts about unlocked doors, quickly eclipsed by the sight of Rosto's bare chest in the moonlight and the strange realization that he _glows_, and finally, the only thing she is aware of is Rosto's warm body next to hers, murmuring promises to her as they drift into unconsciousness.


End file.
